


Dearly despised, (I love you)

by snacc_noir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: :O, Adrien ain’t fond of Chloe, Adrien and Marinette roast each other all the time too it’s amazing, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, And they argue n stuff which amplifies their dislike for each other, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Identity Reveal, It’s a good combo guys trust me, Kissing, Light Angst, Marinette has a ponytail, Misunderstandings, More differences, Tension, a lil aged up, all the tensions, did i mention they’re idiots, idiots to lovers, mutual hating adrienette, mutual pining ladynoir, sometimes their cockiness is hot, they may dislike each other but you know, they run into each other trying to ‘hide alone’ and it just keeps happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snacc_noir/pseuds/snacc_noir
Summary: Things she hated about Adrien:He pulled too many pranks.He ignored attempts to reconcile.He was unfairly attractive.He wasnothinglike Chat Noir.Oh, and hesucked.And here she was fake-dating him while in love with a superhero.(The adrienette enemy x fake-dating au)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 321
Kudos: 1862





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all have been waiting, here’s the infamous adrienette enemy au fic

It started the day of two things.

The day after Marinette Dupain-Cheng would last be _just_ that: Marinette, the fashion-enthusiast and last one to class despite living a corner away in a bakery; a rosy-cheeked darling who knew little about superheros, stress, spite and any reason one might say, “Screw you, Agreste!”

But two things happened the day after.

One: She opened a box. Inside, _of course,_ was an overtly perky ladybug god who informed her she’d now superintend every Parisian life there on out, all through the very unquestionable magic of earrings. But that was whatever, she supposed; Tikki was cool.

The _second_ thing, she didn’t want to talk about.

Marinette wasn’t fond of Chloé Bourgeois—Mayor’s daughter, she’d make clear—for a few reasons. Besides the obvious tackiness of her steel-blue eyeshadow and the whine that could make Marinette’s last name rip her own ear canals, Chloé had a pattern of adding problems to her life. She managed to give the class detentions, headaches, and a reflexive flinch at the phrase, “I’m calling Daddy!”

So the day she announced, “Some boy I grew up with is joining our class,” as she inspected her crappy manicure, Marinette _knew_ nothing good was about to walk through Miss Bustier’s room.

“A friend of Chloé’s? We must be in for a treat,” Alya, the new girl from the year before, jested, ribbing Marinette.

Chloé’s blonde half-do lurched as she whipped around to sneer at the bespectacled girl. “Excuse _you,_ brat, but we’re hardly friends. Our parents just got along and are just richer than all of yours. He’s technically nothing but a business associate to me.”

That’s when Marinette scoffed loudly. “Business associate? You were like, kids.”

She angled her nose. “Oh get lost, Dupain-Cheng!”

A new student always interested the school year, but the ‘entertaining’ prospect of a snobby friend– uh, _business associate_ of Chloé’s soon became the last of Marinette’s thoughts as she was thrust into the surely historical events an hour later that was 1) an akuma attack (don’t ask), 2) becoming Ladybug (she couldn’t even ask), and 3)

“Well hey there! Nice of you to drop in.”

 _That_ guy.

“I bet you’re the partner my kwami told me about.”

Some partner _she_ was. She’d just gotten over the longer, red-striped ponytail and sparkly unwelcome of a skin-tight bodysuit that had replaced her ‘first-day-of-school fit’ Not to mention, she was surely _just_ in her balcony no more than twenty seconds ago—and her and her clueless ass had gone ahead and _barrelled_ into this grinning _angel._

And he was cool with it!

He introduced himself decidedly as “Chat Noir”, an effortless charm already about him, and Marinette had to blink as her tangled yoyo retracted (why was _that_ her weapon?). The warm confidence in his voice surprised her – almost to the degree that hit her during the little yoyo accident of hers had them meet (bodies, hard) in the first place.

It didn’t help that the flailing yoyo assaulted his head during her own introduction – and that was when _all_ her natural pride bent to the will of wanting to die.

“Gah! I’m so sorry! I’m so– I’m so _new_ to this, sorry _._ ” She rubbed her gloved hands over her face, the magical material cool and grid textured. She missed his grin broaden. “I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Hey, hey! No sweat! I’m new to the ropes, too! But we’ll do _fine,_ ” he said, loudly announcing just how stressed _he_ was, all while Marinette couldn’t even remember her name from the way he was smiling at her. He held her shoulder. “We’re in this together, okay?”

“Together,” she laughed, petrified, “okay.”

It went both downhill and uphill from there.

Not only was Chat Noir a _sweetheart_ , but he was a risk-loving, spontaneous mess who didn’t know what he was doing. But after a tender rebuke to his ‘excitement’, they worked together in untraditional greatness as they figured out their powers and skills. Things went too fast then not at all and the next hour became rock and ‘ _what?’_ and _more_ rockand Stoneheart’s deflation at the breaking of his akumatised object: a love letter to Mylène.

But one of two things happened that day.

-

“What are you _doing_?”

The foreign mop of blond hair whipped around, sharp face ablaze in panic.

“Uh, I—” the boy who Marinette quickly realised was Chloé’s-whatever stammered, stupidly, and the uncanny cackles of Chloé and Sabrina down the class rows punctuated his fruitless word-bile.

Marinette stared at the gum his tan fingers stuck to – on her seat.

“I get it,” she sneered, “class prankster? Rich-privilege syndrome?”

“No, I–!”

“Save her the time, Adrien,” Chloé’s pitched voice cut him off. “It’s obvious what you were doing.”

 _That_ may have been the closest she’d ever gotten to defending Marinette.

Guess the Mayor’s daughter and Rich-boy _seriously_ weren’t friends.

Adrien looked at her like spears could fly from his green gaze. A further defence went to steamroll out his mouth, but as his luck denied, a hapless-shaped rock monster crashed through the classroom with an eloquent uproar.

A re-akumatized Ivan had returned and sounded keen to find, “ _Mylène!”_. There were thrown desks and cries and Kim’s high-pitched screams before the creature left just as boldly (ha) with the dread-locked girl in one grip and a wailing Chloé in another other. 

Under oblong furniture, there was a feverish clutch at the bag Tikki dwelled in.

The pitiful confidence from Chat’s strings of encouragement and earlier’s ‘success’ _died_ within Marinette (or “Ladybug”, she’d finally decided) as she realised she’d forgotten to purify the butterfly that had akumatised Ivan. According to Tikki—the pretty cool ladybug god—she was now, in light terms, screwed.

Most of Paris were now rock monsters. And most of Marinette couldn’t move.

Suddenly, she was no longer Ladybug.

Because she _could not_ do this.

“ _Help!”_

Cars flipped and Parisian street floorings frayed as stone masses trampled through and havocked chaos. Industrial smog reaped from the destruction burnt her lungs as she stood agape and supersuit-less. She was avidly still as a bone-deep cry tore from Alya’s throat; a Zag Mercedes slanted atop her body below the neck.

Marinette saw red.

She unclasped her purse and Tikki flew out. “I changed my mind! I need to be Ladybug!”

The pinkish creature smiled. “I knew you’d come around!”

And she became red.

By the time Chat greeted her, poking fun at her lateness and offering a playful flirt—unsurprisingly while in the confines of her yoyo string because that ‘weapon’ was too attracted to him— _Ladybug_ knew then and there that they’d be a team longer than she had planned. She hadn’t planned any of this! But between a new year, new school bully, and new responsibilities, in the end she wouldn’t sit back and do _nothing._

But she still had no plan.

Stoneheart poised on the Eiffel tower with a ring of police and blockades and akuma crowning the base. Ladybug had caught Chloé as she was javelined from the height (she sure could antagonise _anyone_ ), intent of going to the heart of the problem, but Officer Roger with his cast-bound arm recognised no authority of hers and let it be known.

“We’re clear to attack!”

“No, don’t attack them!” she cried, horrified at the implications of all the rock monsters enlarging. “You know it’ll only make it worse!”

“I have a new plan, unlike you, ponytail girl! Now move aside and let the pros do their thing! You’ve already failed once!”

Her lower lip fell and everything crumbled to pieces once more.

“I—”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk to her like that!” Chat spat, pushing past her. “She’s done more than you! She’s _trying!”_

“And she’s had enough attempts!”

Marinette turned to him quietly. “He’s right you know,” she muttered, lashes timid. “If I’d captured Stoneheart’s akuma the first-time round, none of this would have happened! _Gah!_ I _knew_ I wasn’t the right one for this job!”

Without missing a beat, Chat grabbed her shoulder; a hold firmer than before, yet the connection felt affectionate. His eyes softened against hers.

“No. He’s wrong, because if it wasn’t for you—” he turned her Chloé’s direction and nodded, “—she would no longer be here. And because without _us,_ they won’t make it.” He gripped both shoulders. “And we’ll prove that to them. Trust me on this.”

The tightness in her chest let go. Beneath the spotted mask her fair skin washed to a humble shade of pink. That look in his honest green gaze… it blew off any hesitation; any distrust – in both herself and her new partner. And that jitter—that little foreboding of colossal, intangible things—her heart did made her realise, once again,

she was screwed.

“O-Okay!”

But for a completely different reason.

* * *

“So by the time I biked to the Eiffel tower, Ladybug had already purified the butterfly things and told Hawk Moth to get lost! What’s a girl gotta do to get a decent scoop around here?”

Noticing Alya too fixated on swiping through blurry action shots of Ladybug, Marinette stepped in front to push their classroom door open. “You’ll get it soon, I’m sure.”

“You’re right! Next target, ‘Ladybug: An exclusive interview’!”

Marinette laughed and shrugged off her bag, slipping into the seat aisle they’d stolen back from Chloé that morning. “Good luck with tracking her down.” She retrieved her tablet and a magazine she handed to Alya. “And besides, what about Chat Noir?”

“Hm? Oh, I guess he’s cool, but Ladybug pulled a car off me!”

“Uh, she saved _me_ , too.”

The girls blinked up at the sumptuous presence monopolising the space under the door frame, silver-belted hip cocked and an overtired Nathaniel trying to squish under her elbow. 

Marinette’s jaw hardened. “So?”

“Well it was way cooler than a _car lift,_ for starters. I actually almost died!”

Alya flipped through her fashion magazine.

“What-ever. You’re lucky you even know someone who’s friends with a superhero. In fact, I’m in such a good mood I won’t even tell you _losers_ to get out of my seat!”

“This was never your seat.”

“It was, but I’ll be gracious. Adrien’s also not coming back because his dad caught him sneaking out. How lucky am I today?!”

Marinette scrunched her nose as Chloé pranced to her chair. Sneaking out? Was he a lowlife prankster _and_ rebellious pest?

“Hey dude, you came back!”

Oh.

A lean, surreptitious figure strolled in, an arresting green gaze with shuddering lashes looking everywhere but Marinette’s lifted chin. It seemed the rich boy didn’t want her to notice him after being caught red-handed putting gum on her seat.

Great. He came back.

Chloé stared onwards as he took his seat next to Nino, right in front of Marinette. A vivid indignation took over the blonde’s body language but a private gesture from Miss Bustier silenced whatever outrage would have come. The scene was all so confusing. He didn’t have more privileges than _Chloé,_ right?

But Chloé, with folded arms, shrunk in her chair.

Marinette’s gaze sharpened.

“Hey!” Alya whispered, angling the _La Mode 93_ magazine her way. “You know how you were saying outside that you think you’ve seen that new kid somewhere before? This is why!”

Marinette and her pulled brow scanned over the ruinous advertisements that hid the fashion before the face of a certain model wearing the latest _Agreste_ collection threw her heart up her throat.

Agreste.

“He’s– He’s Adrien Agreste! The son of my favourite fashion designer, Gabriel!”

Alya snatched back the issue. “Daddy’s boy, teen supermodel, _and_ grew up in Chloé’s world? Ha!” She slapped it down. “Forget it: he totally put that gum on your seat on purpose.”

Marinette was inclined to agree.

* * *

Past the beige pillars that beheld the mouth of Françoise Dupont, the sky had bled into a wanton shade of sapphire and grey. Marinette stepped from the dry tile into wet light and held her palm to the rain, then slipped off her bag. She’d forgotten an umbrella in all the messes that were the things of the day. In fact, she questioned herself on whether she even knew the forecast.

Then a boy, tall with a white jacket, came from behind and greeted her.

“Hey!”

She faced away, squeezing her bag handle.

Adrien dropped his wave sullenly.

“I just wanted you to know,” he began away from her, opening his umbrella, “that I was only trying to take the gum _off_ your seat. I swear.”

Her mouth tipped.

“I’ve never been to school before. I’ve never had friends. It’s all sort of… new to me.”

The rain sailed down her clothes; down her hair, darkening the dripping tip of her ponytail into a sleek black.

Adrien held out his umbrella.

Her bluebell eyes flickered, starstruck, to his hand then to his eyes, and her perishable breath hitched when she saw those eyes. They were sharp and intimately gorgeous, a kindness about them she knew, but beneath it she didn’t feel what she looked for; she still didn’t trust him…

Hesitantly, she bumped his hand, then took his umbrella.

…Then realised why she didn’t trust him.

“ _Ah!”_

The umbrella closed on her head.

And all she heard were the audacious, heart-plummeting cackles of Adrien Agreste that fleeting moment as she registered what happened. And when she lifted the wing, all she saw was the deceitful eyes filling with mirth on the flawless face of Adrien Agreste.

Thunder clapped.

“Are you kidding me?!” she cried as she opened the umbrella. “Gum, now _this_?! Who do you think you are?!”

The warmness of his face fell and a new sort of expression took over. “What? No! I didn’t—”

“You think you can come in and act like you own the place just because your father is Gabriel Agreste?! That’s what this is, right? _Another Chloé_?!”

His brows furrowed and he raised his hands. “No! No, _she_ was the one—"

“You make me look foolish twice, and both times you try to _lie_ to get yourself out of it? And because you’re a model I’m supposed to fall weak at the knees and let you get away with everything?!”

Raw anger gripped him. “No! _Listen_ —”

“I saw the fangirls today, Adrien. I know you’re used to it so don’t even _try._ ” She shoved the object of embarrassment in his hands, gobsmacking him as humiliation burnt her eyes. “You’re a liar,” she muttered, taking off. He closed the umbrella. “I _hate_ liars.”

“Hey–!” he called out as she trampled down the stairs. “Marinette, _stop._ Just listen—!” But he changed courses of what he was going to say when she stormed faster, wet from head-to-toe. “The only one that’s acting like they own the place is _you_!”

She skidded around the corner, now running, wiping her eyes.

His driver honked at the end of the road and Adrien raced down the steps, rage and hopelessness and indignation all heating within his chest at once. Hand tightened around the shortened umbrella, Adrien only made it to the end of the staircase before futilely set in.

She didn’t listen.

She didn’t cease running.

In one final, meaningless strive for a defence, he shouted to the figure dwarfed by the abundance of sapphire sky – or maybe to whoever could hear –, with the threat, 

“And don’t _ever_ bring up my father again!”


	2. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien’s lens

The second Adrien stepped into the real world, he realised perfection meant nothing.

Not that he was ever perfect; not that his father was ever _right_ , because frankly the “epitome of perfection” label that had been slapped on him since a child—not to be confused with “major disappointment” which his father was also fond of using—held no balm against the absolute ray of _sweetness_ that was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Some other dot points he took about the real world: Innocence didn’t hold up in court. Genuity was a scam. And as long as the wealthy heaviness of the names “Agreste” and “Chloé Bourgeois” were associated with him, he’d be treated different.

“Eugh.”

 _Very_ different.

“Hey,” Nino hissed, noticing the crude shift of Marinette’s eyes on her way past, “what happened yesterday?”

Adrien rolled a pen between his index finger and thumb. “Ha, where do I even start?”

Nino leaned over more, headphones on his neck swinging. “Hang on—Dude, did you even explain to Marinette what happened with the gum?”

“Oh, I explained!” he started, shuffling up in his chair. “I’m never trying to get a word through that girl again. It’s almost as if she’s as thick-skulled as Chloé.”

Bafflement hit him. “What? Marinette?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“Better question is: Why didn’t she hear you out?”

Well, there were a few reasons, actually.

Being caught beside the gum on Marinette’s seat wasn’t the _best_ first introduction. Then Chloé and Ivan grating his defence to shreds with intrusions really didn’t help him either. And it certainly wasn’t the best look when the next time Marinette saw him he was shewing a hoard of fangirls asking for his autograph; an hour or two before he went to explain himself, again, and the umbrella closed on her head to conveniently set him up for another prank he _didn’t_ do.

But still. She didn’t try to listen.

Adrien didn’t have time to discuss all that with his new friend. He was at _school,_ the place of his wildest fantasies. His bodyguard was nowhere in sight, he was a superhero now, and he was in love with Ladybug, to sum it simply.

So what if he had a little enemy or two? He had a city to protect.

“It doesn’t matter, Nino. I’ve given up trying to be her friend.”

Subdued by the class bell chiming, Nino shrivelled in his chair.

* * *

The pleasantness of his and Marinette’s relationship did not fare well much after. Dirty looks were exchanged across cafeteria tables, through library shelves, at their side-by-side lockers (check out his luck) and every time her face unstuck to the floor after she’d tumbled into class late. (Except maybe he was smiling whenever the last one happened.)

Then there was that brief period, on the cusp of his sixteenth birthday, where Marinette tried talking to him – with a very apparent Alya behind a not-so-apparent bush. Key word being _tried_ talking _,_ because her scrunched up, sour-mouthed face took a while to get anything out.

“Uh… hey?” He waved, trying his best not to mock her inability to form words. After all he was like that once – when he was two– ‘ _okay Adrien stop be nice’_.

“H-Hi, uh, I’m– I’d just like to—… Ugh! Nope! No, Alya! I can’t do this now!” Her ponytail almost struck his nose with the aggression she whipped around, stringing together some noisy excuses about who knows what. Maybe it was an apology or means to start afresh. Either way, he only really caught the words, “stupid”, “a note”, and “easier that way”. Oh, and “stupid” again.

“It’s fine?” He squinted, gripping his bag strap as he debated whether this interaction should improve or worsen his image of the dark-haired girl. “I have a photoshoot to get to, anyway.”

He never received a note.

Adrien did, however, receive an unprecedented birthday gift exclusively from his father: a hand-sewn scarf, sky colour, that he wore proudly the day after Nino’s akumatisation – a day wherein he and Ladybug were trapped in a bubble for five minutes, which was a whole birthday gift on its own.

Marinette, for one, did not like the scarf.

“Hey dude!” Showing off his newly improved warmed neck, he greeted Nino foremost as he got out his limo, racing to rehash the splendidness of his dad’s initiative before Alya, beside Marinette, called out,

“Yo! Nice scarf Adrien! Off the chain!”

“Yeah! Can you believe my _Dad_ got this for me?” he said, buzzing, then barely missed the weak smile of Marinette’s that paled. “It’s so awesome! He’s gotten me the same lame pen four years in a row.”

“Seriously?” Marinette piped up; tone aggressive.

He looked at her oddly. “Yeah, it’s– He did.”

“‘He’ didn’t have a… letter with it?”

A letter? What, was _she_ serious? And why did she say “he” like that? His father hadn’t ever invested time or thought into his birthday (he’d always left the duties to Adrien’s mum, who no longer was around) and now there was a gift around his neck and a teenage girl looking like she wanted to tighten it.

So _what_ if the cold business dad too-busy-to-ever-come-for-dinner didn’t add the effort to write a _birthday card?_

How _awful_ did one have to be to insist that he should?!

“Letters don’t mean anything,” he snapped, defensive of his joy.

She scaled up the stairs, inviting herself threatening distances from Adrien as sparks flew from her blue eyes.

Nino and Alya took that as their cue to leave.

“So you’re saying he didn’t write you any note?”

A violent heat expanded in his chest. His nails dug into his strap. “Maybe I am!”

“ _Well—!”_ she all but cried respectively. “I guess the rest of the gift doesn’t really _count—!”_

The air hit his neck instantly.

Under the rioting madness of Adrien’s stare, the silken gift of his father in its pastel blue beauty and hand-thought stitching lay, startled, atop the stairs littered with footprints and muck. Most striking in the brazen silence were the loose white threads of the modest slit where Marinette’s grip targeted most. His bottom lip hung, shaking a little as no appropriate abomination formed.

What…

…

_What?!_

Oh she. did. _not._

“Let’s go, Alya.”

Already at the school opening with Nino, the head of curls didn’t have a chance to see what her friend left and hurried away to their first class, brief mutters of, “what happened?” and “I don’t want to talk about it”, but all that was white noise to the teen in the centre of the staircase.

His breakfast feeling like title waves in his stomach, Adrien picked up his father’s gift.

“You okay, dude?” Nino called out. “What did Marinette say?”

With grit teeth he shoved the scarf in his satchel, eyes blazing. 

“That _witch_ just wanted me to know,” he marched up the stairs, “that we won’t be respecting each other any time soon.”

* * *

Oh, but the problems did _not_ stop there.

Not long after he discovered Marinette’s new levels of insanity and began the trend of commenting on her lateness every class, he ran into yet another fault.

Or specifically, Marinette herself.

“Hey! Did you follow me in here?!”

“No! What are you talking about?!

He held the opening of his white coat in hopes that Plagg, who he hadn’t seen in a while, wasn’t peeking out. “I was in here first!”

“No you were not!”

Uh, he so _was._

And _he_ was the one who needed to transform into Chat Noir while Rogercop was cuffing everyone up. His lady counted on him!

“Marinette, _listen,_ I’m not very fond of you and I’d like to hide _alone._ ”

“So then leave!”

“ _You’re_ the one that’s leaving this locker room, thief!”

She jabbed a nail into his chest, iridescent light rimming off her self-made Chat Noir hairclip. “I didn’t steal Chloé’s stupid bracelet!”

He mirrored her aggression and pointed his finger on her collar. The hair of space between them had made any attempts to jab at each other without touching fruitless. “Like you’ve given me any reason to believe you! I mean, why _wouldn’t_ you ruin the gift from her dad – maybe pocket some wealth while you’re at it!? I guess that’s just what poor scum who spills croissants on the floor _does_.”

Her eyes bloomed with incredulity. “You wanna go down that road, buddy?! Why were you here all alone, anyway? Crying ‘cause your dad didn’t come to Parent’s Career Day?!”

He gasped and beared his teeth. “That’s enough!” he cried. “You wanna know what I think of you—?”

A high shrill behind the room’s doors cut him clean off, and as if a cold bucket of water fell, he was drenched in the realisations of his duties.

_‘Rogercop. Ladybug. Chloé’s big mouth and entitlement.’_

He could give Marinette a piece of his mind any day.

–Ladybug, however, was more than deserving of his respect.

“Whatever,” he spat, gathering his pride and pushing past her. “I’ll find somewhere else to hide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope the present misunderstanding was clear)
> 
> Also more art is coming! my instagram and tumblr were linked last chapter, take care!


	3. Action!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they may fight, they may kiss, who knows with these idiots

Their rivalry became relentless proceeding that.

While trying to avoid akuma in creative places, they seemed to share one braincell and kept finding themselves squabbling in bathrooms, classrooms, behind walls, or any locker room in the school, demanding the other “get out”. Once, Marinette and Adrien bumped heads ducking behind a recycling bin in an empty park. Then they wasted two minutes threatening to sue the other in case they took on concussion (both probably had it with the intelligence that argument had).

It was by sheer luck (not his, undoubtedly) that Ladybug faced her own distractions and arrived similar times he. Her school must have been further away, he reasoned, or that pesky guy that caused her grief held her up.

“He sounds the literal worst.”

“Oh, he is,” the love of his life, the reason to breathe, the fragility of his knees, laughed dryly, and he caught that sad smile that tacked on. “But you just have to get over some things, right? That’s what you say about… _her._ ”

Her compassion swelled his heart and her tolerance inspired him. Nothing could compare to peach skies above sun-bitten rooftops with his lady, the random gatherings of dinner snacks from street shops on their blanket they most definitely stole, and the gnawing reminder at the back of his mind that Nathalie could walk in on his phone doing his piano lesson for him at any minute.

But then she’d _smile._

And he remembered being in love made every risk worth it.

The time she stood up to Hawk Moth’s butterfly incarnation – all fiery and brave and sure of herself – he couldn’t do anything but watch. Then by her creative genius and their meant-to-be teamwork she purified the akuma and caught Mylene’s fall, and as he onlooked the spotted parachute sailing to safety, he swore his heart was no longer his own.

They were friends, for now, and they were only getting closer.

“She’s a handful, but it’s good to remember that not everyone in life is going to like you.”

Ladybug leant forward, holding her cheeks. She blinked up at him, red ribbon and cowlicks of her dark ponytail falling past her shoulder. “How could they not, though?”

He laughed, quietly bashful. “I guess I’m just _too_ good looking to not hate.”

“Oh, _stop_.”

That giggle could single-handedly fuel him for a week.

“I can’t wait until the day I get to meet that guy who tricked you all those times– then purposefully ignored your note asking to start over. I swear, I’m gonna cataclysm his as—”

“ _Chat._ ”

He looked over. The evening cast over them and her eyelashes glowed orange as she held out a Capri Sun drink from their assortments of snacks. He read the “all natural ingredients” label and took it from her eagerly.

“We’re better than that.” She shuffled up, digging through their food pile and retrieving a milk chocolate bar. “We’ve had out weekly vents. Now let’s forget about them.”

Ladybug was right.

Evenings with her were just… _ahh._ She was both a relieving consolation and distraction to the situations he faced at school. She kept him from wanting to punch a wall whenever Marinette told the class he was having “gastro issues” when he went to the bathroom (akuma victim check-up) more than once in a day. She gave him someone to think about during dinner, at the toe of the spiritless table, so he felt less lonely as he faced that empty chair. She gave him a reason to do better – _be_ better – than what Marinette drove out of him.

…

But Marinette still _sucked,_ though.

He could go _on_ about that girl. Like that time she purposefully designed her derby hat entry with feathers so Adrien would have an allergic reaction modelling if she won – which she did, fantastically. Then when she kept ditching school and ignoring Alya – which got her _akumatised_ , by the way (and led to the theory-debunk of Chloé being Ladybug (long story)). Oh! And don’t even get him _started_ on the pure luck that got them:

“Places! Places, people! Mylene should be coming back any moment now!”

Nino said, knowing full-well she was _not._

But a director must keep his crew calm in these situations, and although none of them looked close to giving a rat’s tail about what was going on, the dial for his leadership senses were cranked up so he ‘just knew’.

His co-director (oh right, he had a co) whispered close beside him. “Now that Chloé’s gone we don’t have a fill-in for Mylene anymore.”

“I know.” He rubbed his temple. “Who decided _she_ should star in a _horror_ movie? We need a replacement, pronto. Can you ask Marinette?”

“ _Marinette?”_ Alya’s whisper loudened with her laugh. “She’s the producer. You really think she’d fill in?”

“What other choice do we have?”

“I know, but Adrien would be her co-star. Don’t you think their weird… chemistry will translate on set?”

“Of course it will.” Nino feathered his adjusted script and smirked at the change. Adrien, not too far from the secretive huddle, perked a brow as Juleka applied foundation. “But we don’t have much time. Get her on stage!”

-

 _Temporary,_ they’d said.

Marinette only agreed for the use of the word _temporary_ (plus juice from Rose).

And yet, standing in front of Adrien, eyes flickering over the script a million miles a second, it felt like the longest moment of her life–

“A _kiss?”_ Alya’s indignation sprayed across the room.

–And then it got a lot _longer._

“Who wrote this?!” Adrien raised his script in the air, noticing the same as Alya.

“Uh, I did!” Nino volunteered for execution. Alya stormed to the other side of the room. “You know, just a little tweak to move the story forward—”

“ _What?!_ You edited _my_ script without even telling me?! That’s _low._ ”

“Wait a minute, you mean _our_ script!”

She waved the edited pages at his face. “Well _our_ script now makes no sense story-wise! The character’s emotional journey—"

“It’s called intensity, Alya! It makes the story _interesting_!”

For a fleeting moment that may never repeat in time, Adrien and Marinette exchanged a mutual glance.

Max’s nasally voice cut the directors off. “Principal Damocles is only allowing us to use the school until six p.m. sharp!” He rambled on about the deadline for the Parisian Student Short Film Festival and how they needed to finish filming literally _that night_. Marinette was near-ready to lose her mind. They still had editing, post-sound, sound tracking— not to mention _filming._

“Great,” Alya muttered. “That leaves no time to change the script again.”

Nino beamed to the room. “You heard Max! Places, people! Again!”

Marinette _really_ wished she hadn’t sent Chloé to look for that nurse outfit.

Adrien rubbed his neck. “Um, I don’t think—”

“ _Places,_ Officer Jones,” Nino reiterated. Adrien knifed a look his way.

“Get over yourself,” Marinette said under her breath. He blinked, then glared; one of the few and most dominated expressions she received from him. She decided, internally while coming to terms that she’d probably have to wash her mouth with soap after this, that since there was no way of getting out of it, she may as well be the _mature_ one. After all, _Adrien_ wasn’t capable of that..

She was still going to kill Nino later, though.

“Horrificator, take sixteen.” Alix closed the clapperboard.

Marinette caught Adrien’s gaze relax.

 _Oh_.

So they were really doing this?

(Not that she wasn’t mature enough to handle it— obviously. It was just a peck; it was supposedly nothing.)

(—So why was she now so _nervous_?)

“I’m not scared of that monster, Officer Jones.”

“Cut!” Nino cried. “What was _that?_ Say it like you want to _kiss_ him, Marinette. Not kill him!”

(Nervous, mixed with a little bit of spite.)

She frowned and pretended she didn’t notice how smug that made Adrien. “I can’t help it!”

“Get over yourself,” Adrien said quietly, grinning.

“I don’t _care_ if you can’t help it! Just pretend he’s someone else! Adrien – you too. We have a tight schedule.”

_‘Someone else, hey?’_

“Horrificator, take seventeen.”

Oh, she’d pretend he was _someone else_ alright. In fact, why hadn’t she thought of that before?

For this curse in time, maybe Adrien looking a little similar to _him_ wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing.

“I’m not scared of that monster, Officer Jones!”

With unhinged passion Marinette gripped the openings of his overshirt, imagining they were lapels of black, and closed her eyes before she could see the travesty of what she was about to do. His head went forward in the motion and their lips slammed in a brutal, fervent kiss. She imagined she could hear a cat bell tinkle and that Adrien’s groan was his – it was almost exactly how she’d pictured kissing Chat would feel. Teeth pulled her lower lip as her hand traced his face—his unfairly moulded cheeks and soft skin—and imagined a mask there instead. The sensation shot something electric down her chest and from one more small noise from Adrien, she ripped away remembering _just_ who it was that seemed so eager to open her mouth — and just how eager she should _stop_ being.

“ _Cut!”_ Nino applauded. “Perfect! That was awesome, you guys! Short but passionate! Right, Alya?”

Alya just stared at the two, slack jawed.

Marinette’s heart retched.

Okay. Okay.

It was all fine.

But what in the name of Hawk Moth did she just _do?_

(And worse: she had tricked herself into _enjoying_ it.)

“Your advice really worked, Nino. Thanks.” Marinette smiled over-sweetly, stepping back from Adrien as he wiped his mouth in a daze – not that glanced at him several times.

She felt her cheeks warm and turned towards the door. “Now,” she huffed, straightening her back, “ if we’re done with this _nonsense,_ I think Chloé’s return is overdue. Who’s coming with me to find where they all went?”


	4. Evillustrator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marichat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why you looking at me like that

“You can’t just fly out of here then decide to make catcalls, Ladybug.”

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t cool.” Out of the corner of Chat’s eye, a blonde nuisance waltzed onto the terrace with her yellow Physics binder. Shoulders deflating, he prayed that whatever Ladybug had to tell him over the phone would take him any distance away from the Bourgeois hotel.

Because although _Adrien Agreste_ wasn’t on Chloé’s favourites list, she was _big_ fan of Chat Noir.

(Because _of course_ she’d be that dumb.)

“But you can ditch Chloé.”

“Done in a heartbeat, but why? Where are you?”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said as Chloé tugged on his bicep. “I need you to protect this girl instead.”

An image blinked on his baton’s screen.

Dark hair. Cute smile. Big, deceiving blue-bell eyes.

_Marinette._

“Her name is Marinette.” Oh, _he knew._ “Pretty, isn’t she?”

His gut sank.

He was now in charge of watching… _her?_

“If you say so,” he muttered, scowling at the picture and shoving Chloé off.

She didn’t catch it and spoke over him. “The Evillustrator’s in love with her and promises not to harm Chloé as long as Marinette comes to his birthday party. While he’s distracted, I need _you_ to take him down.”

“…What?”

Okay, let him get this straight.

In exchange for _Chloé’s wellbeing,_ he had to _babysit Marinette_. Not only that, but she had no idea that Chat Noir—the stylish, handsome, incredibly dressed, _insanely_ hilarious and respected superhero of Paris—could not _stand_ her.

Nor that he knew how fake she was. That was Adrien’s knowledge.

And by the sound of it, he’d be doing it _alone._

“Is that really necessary?”

“Uh, yes? What’s the problem?”

At another pull on his arm, he snapped and turned Chloé the other way, shoving her off back inside while holding his staff between his ear and shoulder. “Well where are _you?_ Why don’t you look after the girl?”

“I’m going on… a very important secret mission. Also, I heard she’s quite a fan of yours.”

He blinked.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Can you handle this alone?”

“Who? _Me?_ Please! It’ll be a cinch!”

It was _not,_ a “cinch”.

After waiting with gleeful satisfaction as Sabrina smothered Marinette in front of her house, perched nearby, he dropped with dutiful charm as he introduced himself.

And her face _lit up._

“Of course I know who you are! You’re the best superhero in Paris!”

Both Chat and Adrien were used to praise from various people, but from _Marinette?_ Startled, his tail he’d been so coolly swinging clinked on the ground.

“Uh—” 

“So what are you doing _here?_ ”

Small strings of disgust tugged at his features. Marinette was _smiling._

At _him._

Turned out Chloé wasn’t the only stupid one.

He knew Marinette was somewhat of a fan of “Chat”—he’d overheard a discussion or two and she had that themed hairclip after all—and yet it never bothered him enough because he didn’t expect to actually have to deal with the repercussions of her celebrity crush. But now that he thought about it…

_Ew._

There was something seriously wrong about that. It just went to show how shallow she was with Adrien, judging him in a second and idolising Chat in the next. And because of _what?_ She didn’t know Chat – Actually, she didn’t know either sides of him!

“That birthday boy date of yours is bad news. But don’t worry,” he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms above his head, “I won’t let him harm you too much.”

But his stupid cat costume made him inclined to _wink_ of all evils, and Marinette—the creature who depleted the reality of school being incredible—went giddy.

“Really?! You’re protecting me?”

He’d never seen Marinette giddy before. In fact, he’d only seen about three of her emotions: cold, mad, and smug. They were quite the repetitive trio.

The times where he’d catch her smiling were times he wasn’t supposed to at all. It’d be in corridors or gym, slight angles in the cafeteria – anywhere where he could catch a glimpse of the “Marinette” she sculpted for everyone else; the plastic, undrafted, tooth-rotting mess of ‘sweetness’ and ‘helpfulness’. She’d be with Alya maybe, homemade pastries amongst one plate and the Wednesday special on the other. Their giggles were muffled and the stretch of penniless joy on Marinette’s lips would brighten her face even from tables away – and Adrien would stare just a second longer in morbid curiosity.

Because that was the same girl who tore his first thoughtful birthday from his father. 

Although he’d never seen her brightness up close, he knew it was _quite_ different to any raw Marinette he got front row seats for, so not for the first time that evening, he had to blink a few times to make sure he was talking to the right person.

“Uh– sure.” He twirled his tail, attempting a façade of coolness once again, yet hesitance laced his voice instead of confidence. “But I’m going to need a little help. Care to assist a… superhero?”

There was no way he was talking to the right person.

“Me?! And _Chat Noir?_ Fighting crime _together?_ Amazing! What do I do?!”

He winced.

_‘That secret mission better be important, Ladybug.’_

“Just… uh, get that pencil away from him,” he said, sliding off the hands on his chest with a tight grimace, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

And he left, fast, head spinning a million miles per second as he vaulted away from whatever _that_ was –

Because what in living daylights _was_ that?! 

* * *

  
What was worse (yeah, there was a ‘worse’) about teaming up with the reason he was _late_ for akuma attacks, was that said temperamental nightmare was _helpful_ at defeating akumas.

As in, _she didn’t suck._

The _one_ time he needed her to suck – She couldn’t have been a failure so his alter ego had _some_ chance to openly dislike her, could she? Because she was _awful_ and wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, even unintentionally. It was nature. Miss Oops-Dropped-Your-Croissant-On-The-Floor-And-No-One-Else’s had to successfully—not just almost—retrieve Evillustrator’s pen and throw it to him under the silky moonlight before they were trapped, _together_ , drifting along the Seine in the confines of some cube, the stars glittering like his mother’s old jewellery before she, unprompted, took his staff and _showed him how to escape,_ because he couldn’t figure it out himself!

The bloody audacity.

“I heard about your adventures with Chat Noir yesterday.”

An estimated cry, a locker slamming shut, and an overcooked glare served at his charming self and Marinette was back to normal.

“Would you _stop_ doing that—”

“Which is shocking to me since, I didn’t think you could be any help to anyone but the asses you kiss,” he cut her off, “let alone a _superhero._ ”

She turned her face, scowl easing. “And you were wrong, no surprise.”

He scoffed. Arms crossed and half leant against Alix’s locker, he tossed more bait. “So you _actually_ helped Chat Noir? Or did your drool cause you to slip?”

“Hilarious, Agreste.”

“I’m serious. I’m sure Chat had to tell you how to do your job, right?”

Her lips pressed.

One, ‘I had to help him’ of the sorts was all he needed to take to ‘Chat Noir’ so he could fairly dislike her, and Marinette was no coward when it came to defending herself. _This_ time, she wouldn’t let him down.

“Chat Noir is _amazing_ ,” she raised her chin. “I’m extremely lucky to work with him– uh, _was_ lucky, that one time, I mean. We worked fine.”

“Is that so?”

She mimicked his pose, shouldering the locker adjacent to hers—the one covered with Ladybug idolatry and printed photos from the Ladyblog—, arms crossed and smile thin. “You expected otherwise?”

He glared at where her elbow bunted a certain favourite picture of his: the sunset and Eiffel tower behind the perfect “pound it” pose.

“I expected one of you to be lost, at least.”

Her brow lowered. “Why would Chat mess it up?”

_‘There it is.’_

If she wouldn’t admit he couldn’t do his own job, then he might as well switch to what he did best: rile her up.

“He’s clearly a stupid hero.”

“He clearly _is not._ ” Her spine righted. Neither noticed everyone had gone to class. “What would _you_ know about him?!”

“He’s a show-off, slack at his job, can’t purify akuma, all while Ladybug can do _everything_ —”

“Not true!”

“— _and_ make Chat look ugly in the process with how attractive she is by comparison.”

“ _What?_ Chat Noir’s even hotter than you!”

He leant in, head towering her. His grin curved wryly. “’Even’?”

She shrunk in on herself.

He just got closer. “You’re saying you don’t think he is by _that_ much, then?”

“I never said that!” His shadow fell past her scrunched nose. The cream skin had rosed beneath her freckles. His looming smirk widened, his taste of delight swelling. “You’re just a model, so it’s hard.”

_‘Oh?’_

He saw her throat move with her swallow. She’d recognised her mistake.

“I think you’re only digging yourself deeper, princess.”

“You know what? I said what I said!” She leered up at him, composure belying the deepening colour on her cheeks. “That doesn’t matter, anyway! Chat’s the better looking one out of the duo.”

“Compared to Ladybug?” He laughed. “ _Please._ I’d give her my full modelling career in a second. And don’t think I’ve finished interrogating you about yesterday. Where’s the truth, Marinette? I _know_ you and Chat were no-doubt disasters.”

“He’s a great superhero!”

“Bull!”

She gripped the opening of his white overshirt. Right up in his business, she asked rather aggressively, “What’s your deal?! Do you have a problem with me working with Chat?!”

His gaze flickered over her as he lagged in response.

Noticing his sudden shift in smugness, she titled her head.

“Protective of me or something?” The corner of her lip quirked. “Don’t think just because I almost let you shove your tongue down my throat last week that I’m now yours.”

Heat exploded beneath his ribs. It soared straight to his face.

“ _Excuse me_?!”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Agreste. After all I know you enjoyed it.” Voice bordering a whisper, her lashes dragged to reveal the twinkle that’d sprung into the light blue eyes that looked him up suggestively. “If where your hands were going was any indication.”

“I was acting! And I did _not_ enjoy it!” he cried, flustered to the point he forgot to deny their new distance and instead surged forward. Her stature was dwarfed by his, yet despite the height and domineering pose her confidence was closer to that of his earlier. Now he felt the glass beneath his feet.

“Oh you _totally_ enjoyed it—”

He scoffed in her face. It blew on her dark bangs. “You were _way_ more into it then I was.”

Gratified with herself, she tugged his shirt. “Then who was the one who pulled away?”

“The script never specified how long we were supposed to kiss!”

“Well you didn’t seem keen to _stop_ anytime coming!” Colour filled her face. The further they went—the _closer_ they got—the more an underlying control system of hers was being sent into a frenzy.

It was a game. It was all a game.

Her and her _stupid_ games.

“I was in character!”

“You were in my mouth!”

“I put effort into acting, Marinette!”

“What are you trying to deny?!”

“Oh _shut up_!”

“Make me!”

 _That_ was déjà vu’s entrance.

The distance. The grip on his shirt. The positioning. The distance. The breath fanning his face. The wetted lips. The _distance._

The overwhelming drive that flew up his veins to just _grab her face._

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

And as that déjà vu tipped ice water, his senses cleared.

He _wouldn’t._

It was all the same last week except there were no cameras. There was no people. No script. No _excuse._

Disgust cleansing him just as fast, Adrien couldn’t believe the fleeting urge even plagued him for a _second._ He swallowed and hauled his gaze from her glossed lips.

This was Marinette.

He tore her fingers from his shirt, jaw firm, and an uncanny stillness emptied into the room.

“You wish,” he sneered, turning away and not looking back.


	5. Animan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work out by running from your feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all... the support is just- *wipes tears with Gucci tissues* It’s the relentless simps for tension, for me
> 
> Anyway ch 5

“Adrien called me hot.”

“He called _Ladybug_ hot—”

“I am Ladybug!”

At a cursory, perhaps naïve glance, the reflection of the previous day’s ‘argument’ appeared to a source of stress for Marinette; her typically styled, wavy ponytail was haloed by dark wisps and her Chat Noir clip was lopsided and it hung off the side; her pacing an irritation to onlookers. And yet, a sort of confused ecstasy had plagued her instead – for she now had the upper hand (supposedly?), albeit a secret one.

“I thought he made a show of kinda liking Ladybug because _I_ liked Chat Noir. I mean, have you seen his locker? How pathetic! He has an _actual_ celebrity crush—”

“Marinette,” Tikki’s patient voice intruded, “I don’t think you’re focussing on the more important parts of yesterday.”

“Like what? I got my History homework in a little late? So did Kim—”

“ _No,_ ” she rebuked. “You and Adrien’s spat.”

Mouth dry, Marinette squatted on her chaise.

“Yeah, he said he’d give me his modelling career.”

The floating kwami’s features drooped. “That’s not all that happened.”

Hair a shameless disarray, Marinette turned her face. Tikki had implied her true source of franticness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? What about, “ _You were in my mouth—"_ ”

“ _No!_ Nope! We’re not doing this! I remember!” She did _not_ say that, did she?! “Don’t say any more… please.”

After a tender beat of silence, Tikki flew to Marinette and landed in her lap, patting her leg with the smallest hand consolingly. Her chosen just wetted her lips as she stared at her desk.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what? Nothing happened.” 

“But it _almost_ did.”

_Her upright heart racked against her ribs – cheeks, veins, bones reigned by fire and electricity. A certain bolt skated her spine when his eyes dipped._

_“Make me,” she’d said._

_And make her he almost did._

Or at least, at the time he seemed to lurch on that _almost;_ like there was a slight weight added to his lean; a question in the shape of his lips; a new flame in his eyes. But considering the hypervigilant mess her brain was she was probably sensing wrong. Honestly, it all was stupid anyway. Tikki was making a fuss over nothing.

“So? We don’t even like each other. It would never happen.” She leant back on her palms, forcing a mirthless laugh. “He’s just an idiot.”

Tikki didn’t say anything. 

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. He was just messing with me. Drop it, Tikki.”

Her kwami ascended near her hair and kindly adjusted the Chat Noir clip Marinette hadn’t been bothered to fix. “Of course. But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

She smiled, holding the urge to argue there was nothing to talk about. “Thanks, Tikki.”

-

“You almost kissed _Marinette~_ ”

“I did not!”

“You think she’s _pretty~!_ ”

“Plagg!”

“You think she’s _hot~”_

“Stop it!”

“You wanna _kiss_ her~!”

“No I don’t!”

Abruptly, Plagg stopped his chorus, flying into Adrien’s locker to look him dead-on. “You so do! I was there yesterday, you know. You two were so close I could’ve flown into her jacket instead!”

“Oh yeah?” he spat childishly, “did you miss the part where Marinette’s obsessed with _Chat Noir?_ If you should be making fun of anyone, it’s her.”

Why Plagg decided to bring up the pesky “incident” that hadn’t left his brain all night at the _lockers_ of all things, Adrien had every idea. That little brat lurking in his coat had been far too quiet all day, so of course, leave it to him to reserve the taunting until they reached the crime scene, alone, where no one was daring to walk in and shut the kwami up.

“Nah, I like her.”

Pff. He _would._

The school day had washed out. His classmates were either at tutoring, art club, music club – all those things his father deemed Adrien “too good for”. But Nino was outside waiting for him so they could go to the new attraction at the Zoo together.

Nino didn’t tell him much else.

And he soon found out why.

“ _Psst_!” came out of Adrien as he dragged his buddy behind a vertical bush. His voice hissed like a profanity, “Marinette’s here!”

“Hm, what?” Nino blinked. “Where?”

A glare embraced his features. Adrien _knew_ his friend’s coyness like no other, and he could tell Nino _knew_ Marinette was there. And if he was right—which Adrien always most certainly was—Nino’s feign-denseness indicated he had something to do with the reason for her and Alya being there.

“What’s your deal? You invited them, didn’t you?”

“Well– I– Eugh…”

“ _Nino!”_

“I wanted all of us to hang out, okay dude!?” he relented. “You know, just so you and Marinette can get to know each other better…”

Adrien’s fist balled. “I know her just fine.”

“You really don’t, man. She’s so nice, like, I’m sure all your beef is just a misunderstanding. And I hate seeing you change so much when you’re near her! I mean, look at you! It’s like your about to rip my head off!”

Behind them, an animal growled.

“I wonder why.”

Nino foresighted the threat and had already stepped back. “You really crack me up, dude.” His laugh wobbled. But now his profile was visible to Alya, who, before the girl beside her could run away, grabbed Marinette’s arm and rushed over, curls bouncing.

“Hey guys!”

“H– Hey,” he croaked, trying not to die, but in a cool way.

Because Marinette did _not_ look happy.

Huh. So she didn’t know about this either, then?

“Alya,” the grit-teeth gremlin said, chaining eye contact with Adrien. “Did you forget to tell me something on the way here?”

Indifferent to the way her arm had been cut from circulation, Alya shook off the new grip with a smile towards Nino. “Nope!”

She mimicked the expression, cheeks splitting painfully. With an overtly saccharine voice, Marinette said to no one in particular, “Hm! Okay, then!”

Alya nudged. “Are you going to say hello?”

Adrien just onlooked, sheepish.

“Nope!”

Honestly, such the child.

“Kim and Max just invited us to go look at the new panther, so while you guys hang out I’m just going to go find them. You’re better off without me, anyway.”

“True,” he said without missing a beat. He pocketed his hands and shouldered Nino with such a force his headphones swung. “But I think Nino wants you around. _I’ll_ go find Kim and Max.”

Her gaze narrowed. “No. They invited _me._ ”

“Yeah, but, you said no, didn’t you?”

“I said I’ll catch up with them later!” She lurched at him, readying into a typical arguing stance. They hadn’t even been at the Zoo long. “Now is later!”

“It really isn’t. Besides, I know they’d prefer my company more.”

Nino froze. “Uh guys—"

“Oh get off your high horse!”

But there was no horse.

Just giraffes, gorillas, elephants, birds, bears, all lead by a panther coming at them on the foot road with unhuman speed, but no horse.

The girls whipped around.

_“_ Uh—"

Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d ever seen. Most life-threatening? Maybe. It could give the chow mien grease stains on the latest _Gabriel_ winter launch prototype a run for its money.

Ha, run.

Speaking of which—

“We better ditch this place!”

-

Judge Marinette all you want, but Nino and Alya _totally_ deserved to be locked in that panther cage with the surprise afternoon they tried to put her through.

_‘Hey, Marinette, my best-est of friends, you wanna hang out at the Zoo four o’clock?’_

What manipulative _garbage._

But hey, seriously don’t judge her. She was encaging them with _safety,_ and they couldn’t get mad at her because at the time she was Ladybug – who, seemingly, was a lot more likeable than Marinette.

According to some people…

“If we can destroy his bracelet, I can capture the akuma and everything will go back to normal.”

“Sounds like a good idea!” Chat beamed.

Not that Adrien’s opinion could affect her while _he_ was around.

Sure, towards Marinette, Chat was admittedly indifferent. He was slow in response, not as quick-witted or marvellous with his puns – but he wasn’t _friends_ with Marinette. Just best friends with Ladybug, who understood (and perhaps loved) him more than any civilian. Of course he behaved different.

Some nights she’d leave her trapdoor open to stargaze. She’d think and think and think. Most thoughts were about him. Others were unfinished homework she debated getting up for. But when she thought about _him_ , a million realities slipped through and into her fingers. Chat was a civilian. He had another identity. He lived a life, surely an interesting one with his personality, and without a doubt got along with the civilians around him. She thought about what he may be doing those timeless, fragile nights when she blinked at silver spots in the abyss. Maybe he was sleeping? Gaming? Studying?

Thinking about her?

Ha. She wished.

Sometimes she pictured meeting him as a civilian. She thought about the reality of not knowing he was Chat. _That_ one never failed to wrench her heart. Because what if she had? What if they were kids? What if she cut the conversation short? What if she was _rude_?

The rabbit hole would deepen. She’d guess tiny details about his life, imagine his appearance, his family, and she just _knew_ he had infinite friends – How could anyone _not_ get along with the angel?

But there was that underlying certainty. The million things she’d never know, never see, never understand – never _express._

Whatever she offered him would never be enough—

Inside her parents’ bakery, something about a frame on the shelf took Chat captive; a raw blanket of remorse falling across his face.

—and she’d give him _everything._

But enough about that! She was eaten by a _dinosaur_ that day.

So much for a normal girl with a normal life. In the last week, she’d seen Chat Noir in heels, helped a superhero, almost kissed her enemy, was tricked into ‘hanging’ with said enemy, chased by a hundred zoo animals, eaten by Alya’s dad as a dinosaur, and to top it all off—

In fact, what was probably the _worst_ part yet:

“Uh… we’re sort of… together now,” said Nino,

Beside Alya.

_Hand in Alya’s._

And in Alya’s other hand was the knife she’d just used to stab Marinette in the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little does she know he is thinking ab her. All night. Conflicted with himself bc /boy/ did he wanna kiss her that day. The losers


	6. Gamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine them being... *cringe*... partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! Here’s an unnecessarily longer chapter bc y’all are lonely and spending the day reading fanfic of dorks hating each other *judgy side-eyes* oh I know you are don’t go looking at ME like that

“You’re _dating?”_ Marinette cried, incredulous, bookbag slapping across on her desk Thursday morning as she steamrolled over Alya’s overly-chipper (for pre-emtive damage-control), ‘’sup girl!?” “Why?!”

Welcoming smile dropping, Alya rolled her eyes. “I explained this yesterday. I didn’t think you had much of a problem with it.”

Well how could she _tell?_ Marinette didn’t speak for a good twenty seconds after the announcement before hauling forward with laughter until her sides ached. The serious expressions cut her off, then Marinette simply said, “I’ll just process this. Bye!” And shut her bakery door.

She’d processed it.

“You’re supposed to tell me it’s a joke.”

“No joke. I’m with Nino.”

But she _couldn’t_ be. Sure, Marinette had no legitimate problem with Nino but _Alya_ for sure did. They bickered, they didn’t talk much, uh… um, she made fun of his haircut that one time! Point was, they didn’t get along – so far, so what sparked it?”

“Ladybug locked us in a cage.”

Ah… _right._

“We just kind of… got over our differences. Our arguments were stupid. He’s a really cool guy. Besides, I’ve sort of liked him for a while.”

“ _What?”_ echoed, causing three classmates to turn their heads.

Alya grabbed her hand and hunched so her friend would keep her voice down. “Shh! I never told you because I couldn’t even admit it myself, and I’m not too fond of telling _everyone_ just yet.”

Marinette’s freckly nose scrunched. Indignation gripped her. “He’s best friends with _him,_ Alya.”

She pushed up her glasses. “You _know_ that’s a childish thing to—”

But she was cut off.

Quite loudly, for that matter.

“—No! No! I don’t believe you!” was the end of an indignant streamline from none other than Adrien Agreste—all tall and mighty with his gelled hair from a morning photoshoot and new designer shoes—as he pushed open the door with his back, not ceasing his stare-down with Nino, who walked in a second later with a brow of worry. Before he could utter anything back, Adrien’s head snapped towards the wide-eyed girls in the second row.

This time, the glare nailed them _both_.

“It’s the truth dude.” Nino took off his cap and carded a hand through his hair, head low. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t know how you would react.”

Marinette, for one, sure knew how he’d react. In his horrified glory, she looked straight at how she’d predict his taking to the news; or rather, she stared into a mirror. It encompassed her raw crossness and betrayal.

Nino and Alya—their best friends—were dating.

She was fine with their relationship—they were happy (weird, but happy)—it was everything knew that would come _after_ that caused the wound in both Adrien and Marinette’s backs.

Because consequently, they were going to seeing a lot more of each other.

And they knew this. Everyone knew it. No amount of time, energy, or love in a friendship could dare rival the sickly-giddy feeling that came with wanting to spend every moment with the person you Venmo-ed your care towards. Marinette explored new spots in the cafeteria when Adrien would beat her to Nino and Alya—after all, they both couldn’t be there (she had watched Kim skull three Vietnamese noodle soups that week because of Alix).

Pleading, blue-bell eyes lit by crusty science lab lights held no barrier against the heart that swelled for the guy who was convinced he’d invented chocolate toasties. Group work became of source of dread for the acquainted enemies. Nino and Alya just _had_ to work together, roping them in fours.

“Please, girl! What if Nino and I do the tough parts?!”

Sure. But could they even do that while sucking off each other’s faces?

(And Marinette thought working with _Chloé and Sabrina_ was bad.)

So against library shelves, she’d stare at the slump model fisting his cheek and blinking away his lack of sleep. As long as they worked silently, there would be no problem. Except having to be near him. And look at him. Without fail, the half-conscious dimwit would catch her idle gaze and cut it off with a practiced scowl.

It was odd—yet marvelling—how his picturesque, insufferably handsome expression with soft features, relaxed jaw, and heavy eyelids could just _flee_ at her doing – Not even doing, because she really didn’t have to do much but exist. Adrien’s effortless attractiveness could transform into something most would be frightened to look directly at. Just that _glare_. The slick coarseness that could jolt anyone but her. It was _reserved_ for her, even now; even if they hadn’t spoken all evening and could only think about Simpson’s Diversity Index.

Then there was that time even Nino and Alya had little to do with their pair-up.

She’d blame her competitive side.

“Guess I’ll be coming over to practice,” Adrien said between his teeth; between both Mr Damocles _and_ Miss Bustier (why did she keep looking at them like that?) after they’d finished their well-rounded lecture about his and Marinette’s high expectations for the UMS III tournament. “With… my new partner.”

_Bleh._

She’d only joined the trials to beat Adrien for a little afternoon fun – completely forgetting that if she did, she’d have to represent the school in the Paris Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tournament.

With him.

On the way to the bakery, Adrien’s presence impeding, she closed her purse to spare the handful of what Tikki had to say about her character _there_.

“This is _not_ happening!”

* * *

“Marinette and I are finalists in Paris’ Ultimate Mecha Strike 3 tournament.”

When Adrien had hauled himself out from the silk sheets of his master king-sized bed, lemon water on his bedside table, and three-panelled computer system blinking his schedule that morning, his unfortunate life became _that_ more difficult. The two cursed events that had slapped his day in the face were a) being partnered with Marinette for gaming, let alone anything, considering their repulsive chemistry, and b) standing in Marinette’s house, before her parents, talking to said parents like they weren’t the bearers of such a repellent creation.

“No way!” Tom – Marinette’s very, very big father who could definitely snap Adrien in half like a glowstick – marvelled from three heads above him. “Well, she did learn from the best. Tom style! _Booyah!”_

Adrien smiled tightly, ignoring the perfect technique of Tom’s fist as he posed.

“Marinette never told us about this tournament,” Sabine said.

“We were just paired up today.”

“You two are a pair, huh? I hope you work well together. I’m sorry to say but Marinette hasn’t talked about you before.”

Something about the way the bright-faced adults looked at him gave Adrien no trouble believing her.

“But you seem an exceptionally fine man, Adrien. I’m sure Marinette would love to get to know you more—"

“ _Mum!”_

To his right, the ponytailed dame of his nightmares clung to the staircase, angling a warning look to her mother.

“Ha-ha,” she recovered, “come up, Adrien!”

* * *

Pink.

Her room was pink. It was the first, second, twentieth thing he saw. The inescapable shades blemished the walls, the desk lamp, the chaise, the bed, the trapdoor, and even the computer blinking the UMS III title screen. It had him pause, hands deep in his pockets and head low with the feeling he was trespassing. He never thought of Marinette to be someone as to prefer a colour so bright and chipper as pink – or live in such a tidy space, for that matter. It felt wrong for him to even know it now.

“If you’re done snooping around, we can get started.”

“I wasn’t—” then he decided not to bother.

“You can have that chair. It squeaks non-stop.”

He dusted his jeans and swivelled the hot pink seat towards him. “Why, how kind of you.”

Marinette said nothing. They sat, the apparent squeak of one’s chair doing little to help the awkwardness of the space. In unison, they reached for the controllers and jolted at the brush of the other’s hand. It was instinct that pushed a petty, tongue-heavy, “Sorry” from Marinette, and a muttered, “No, you go” from Adrien, before the scene repeated itself the second try. Warmth smarted her cheeks as Adrien’s hand seized hers. Again, they ripped away like the other was fire.

Denying eye contact, they began playing.

“Your parents seem nice. That was a surprise,” he spoke up.

“Yeah,” she said absently, fingers speeding over the buttons. “You’re just lucky I don’t talk about you.”

“I’m sure you’d have a lot to say.”

They side eyed.

“Everything going good?” Tom’s voice appeared. Adrien turned, his heart pushed against his ribs, to see Marinette’s father poking his head in the trap door with a tray of baked goods.

Oh, right. This was a bakery. He’d always wondered why Marinette always smelled good – Not that he smelt her! No! No, no, that was… _No_. He did not _purposefully_ do that, but he’d get wafts; occasional drifts of a clean, slightly sweet, sometimes yeasty aroma. He’d noticed at the back of his mind since coming to her house that the smell he didn’t know he recognised now had a warm, stronger, and sugary quality to it.

“I thought just in case you wanted something to eat—”

Marinette caught the lift of Adrien’s face.

“No thanks, Papa.” The lift fell. “We’re training.”

“Well then, uh, maybe you need a few tips. You know, dad-style!”

Despite still scared-senseless of Marinette’s dad and his size, something about him was very endearing to Adrien. He giggled quietly.

“Thanks, but no thanks!”

While there was something very repulsive about _her._

It didn’t help that she was definitely the reason they kept winning, all while continuously sending her parents away when they offered freshly baked, mouth-watering nourishment. He was trapped– hopeless, hungry, and indignant in Marinette’s cute little room. Alone. With Marinette. And her parents very obviously spying on them.

They were winning, though.

“That was practically all you again! You don’t even need me,” he moped, leaning on his squeaky chair as the ‘game over’ card bleared.

“You’re not wrong,” she muttered. “But we’re stuck together.”

“I’m well-aware.”

A beat of silence. Her controller clicked the desk when she set it.

Marinette’s sighed.

“Uh, actually, you know what?” She rummaged her jean pocket. His head perked as he gripped the desk to drag himself closer to it. “This is why I win.” Her hand opened and revealed a short red ribbon dotted with charms.

Pff. Was she serious?

“Good one,” he muttered. “I get it, you’re better than me.”

Her face screwed. “No! I’m trying to help you here. Do you want to play better for the tournament or not?”

“I… guess, yeah?”

“Then take this. It’s a good luck charm.”

Hesitance moving his hand, he did.

Her parents interrupted a tenth time a momenr after that. He never got to play a match with Marinette’s little undone bracelet since they relocated to a bench in the nearby park – to eat, _finally,_ since Tom and Sabine recognised their daughter had been trying to starve him.

In resentful silence, the two chewed down their pies without so much as a relaxed expression to the other, before the people in the soccer game they were watching were sucked into pixelated cubes into some machine that looked awfully resemblant to a character in UMS.

A character that then headed straight towards them.

Marinette’s blood went cold.

“Please tell me this is some kind of publicity stunt for the tournament…”

“Well, well, Marinette,” the oversized machine said, its triangular head angling over her. “Let’s see who’s victorious this time!”

Max had been akumatised into the Gamer. And Marinette was his goal.

Adrien’s teeth grit. “Doesn’t look like a publicity stunt to me.”

The akuma’s pinnacle circle glowed as green pixels built up, ready to blast the two.

“ _Look out!”_

In a fleeting breath, Adrien grabbed Marinette entirely and dived towards the grass before they could be sucked into the point system. She landed with his body bent over hers, shielding, and she looked over to see the park bench where they just were completely dissolved.

Adrenaline driving through him, he leapt up and pulled Marinette’s hand along with him.

“We better get out of here!”

Panic pushed open his lungs as they ran, the blasts of pixels fair metres afar. Max aimed for another bench just as their hands, gripping to each other for dear life, soared over it while they ran either side. The green discharge exploded the chair and disconnected their grips. Heated dread flooded down his arm as the final soft tips of Marinette’s fingers slipped from his hand.

They’d let go.

As the Gamer followed Marinette, Adrien in all his brazen and mismatched franticness from knowing he had lost her transformed behind a tree. He scaled a nearby building as Chat Noir, nails clinging to the concrete as he sought out that infuriating dark ponytail. But there was no sign of her nor Max in the park. She must’ve lured him into the street. What was wrong with her? Did she even _try_ to hide for safety? Did she know the chaos akuma could cause in the street?! _Where was she?!_

He found Max blasting something in an avenue, his two neon-striped arms opposing the cars on the street sides as his character (that he was presumably controlling from the inside?) stomped along.

As he readied a great aim, Chat threw his baton to knock the triangle head.

“Game ov– _Ah!”_

“Not yet! Here comes a new challenger.”

He landed before the Gamer with a grin, relief clearing his veins not seeing Marinette in sight (but a different relief from usual) before a distinct, “Chat Noir! _Hey!_ Over here!” had his head turning every direction.

He torpedoed out of another pixelated shot’s way and to behind the white car Marinette cried from, landing with his head between her knees. He dashed forward and picked her up, her body flying over cars in an immovable L-shape with his speed.

They made it atop a mid-class hotel, but before he could safely let her go, the person in his grip struggled rapidly. It caught him so off guard that he dropped her just as he jumped over the pool before landing. She yelped, figure disappearing in the water, the splash and reborn panic spraying over him.

“ _Marinette_!”

He dove, slinging an arm around her back before she could go more than a metre deep, and hauled her above the water. He treaded with the limp girl in his arms for just a moment.

“Are you okay?”

She coughed thrice. In his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just shocked.” As she wiped her mouth, her eyes snapped open and something in him churned. He stared, mistakenly getting a clear look at her. Wet mascara bruised her lower lids, her wavy hair had flattened, and her white undershirt had begun to… _oh_.

He tore his eyes up. Fast.

“Thanks Chat,” she smiled. “Not for dropping me.”

He swam to the edge, placed her down, then dragged himself out. She gathered her wits and wrung out her ponytail.

“It’s on the house.” He shook out his hair and looked at her cockily. “I heard miss video game champ over here really ticked off the final boss.”

She crossed her arms under her chest. _Bad move bad move—_ “Well it doesn’t give him extra points to go transforming everyone.”

He pried his gaze off her quickly and headed to leave.

“Wait! I left my… my partner Adrien at the park. He could be in danger!”

 _That_ stopped him in his tracks.

“Uh, don’t worry! Adrien’s not in danger. You’ll be safe here. Just stay put, maybe get some dry shirts– uh, dry set of clothes, in the meantime!” he stammered, eyes flickering like crazy between her face and transparent clothing. “It’ll be fine. Chat Noir will take care of it! _Bye!”_

After whatever _that_ was, he couldn’t _wait_ to see Ladybug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me adding more marichat before ladrien even arrives 😳
> 
> Also fake dating will probs be season 2? And I’m not re-doing every s1 episode so it could be soon 👀
> 
> ALSO THE ART GUYS THIS FIC HAS TEASER ART (insta and tumblr already linked) I’ll be posting nino, alya, and Chloe’s designs for this soon 
> 
> Until next time...


	7. Simon Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladrien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer’s block amiright, you’d think writing them as idiots would come natural 
> 
> also- guys *emotional silence* the overwhelming amount of support and love for this au??? the comments, the Instagram clans, and especially the milk-chocolate lovers, I thank you dearly. You guys are the reason I don’t update every century like my root instincts would tend to

“Sorry I’m late! I didn’t break the macaroons on the way this time, though!”

“Where were you?” Alya asked with all the candour of someone very unsurprised by Marinette’s tardiness.

Sighing, she popped a soda amongst the ring of food and slanted besides Mylène on the picnic rug. “With Miss Bustier. She caught Adrien and I again.”

Juleka and Rose’s eyes lifted above their sandwiches midbite. Huh – Maybe she should have worded that different for people who weren’t Alya.

“What, making out?” supplied Alix, unphased as she chewed down a chicken wrap. The shock of _that_ and Alix’s apparent lack of bother towards the idea had Marinette’s face blooming unkindly.

“Wh— _No,”_ she huffed over Mylène’s giggle. Mylène had heard _all_ about her vendetta towards Adrien Asshole that time she came to pick up her dad’s hat for his show. The same night Adrien arrived late to redeem a VIP spot (singular – for some reason he went alone?) to ‘The Mime’s Extraordinary Adventure’ and had to sit next to—you’ll never guess— _Marinette_.

Alya thought it was so funny she refused to swap seats. The show wasn’t worth fighting for the arm rest all night and hearing the subtle snark of, “ _There’s you”_ when the disfigured-masked mime came on. 

“We never showed up for the end of class because we were arguing in the lab. He accused me of “following” him since we both came out of the cupboards at the same time after Mr Pigeon calmed down – this is the third time this month, I may add. Not that I… take much notice of that stuff. Anyway. I know he follows me and argues about it just to piss me off.” She sipped the raspberry lemonade. “He does it _all_ the time.”

Alya was tickled by a mix of humour and dubiety. “Does he though?”

“He _does._ ”

“And what did Miss Bustier say?”

“She wasn’t ‘proud of our continuous tardy behaviour’ and seemed like she wanted to say something else, but didn’t. She walked in just as I was getting the budson burner ready, too.”

“ _Marinette!”_

“I’m joking!” she eased Mylène. “I don’t even know how to safely use one of those, anyway. Point is I was held up for reasons other than forgetting. Rose, can you pass me the brownies, please?”

She obliged, but not without the comment, “Do you _like_ Adrien, Marinette?”

“No.” She shoved a chocolate brownie in her mouth.

Rose looked to her left.

Juleka cleared her throat. “In, uh, what– in which way?”

“None. I like him many feet away from me, preferably trapped in a room with Chloé.”

“Hey! That happened the other day, didn’t it?” Alya mused, nodding to Alix for the napkins. When everyone eyed her, she explained. “With the akuma Pixelator. That was when our class went to Chloé’s hotel, remember? She put Adrien and I on trash duty. He made it sort of better telling jokes and stuff, but then there was that alligator—”

“Who wants macaroons!?” Marinette intruded, unleashing desserts from her tipped schoolbag when she noticed the crescent of expressions look increasingly concerned. One pinkish one rolled out, flattening the grass before hitting the toe of the Seine.

“Here I was thinking you and blondie were in some sort of love affair.”

Blushed crumbs flew from Marinette’s mouth as she downright _choked._ “What on earth gave you that idea?!”

Alix shrugged, silently regretting her seating position, brushing broken macaroon off her strawberry hair. “Your kiss in that film.”

Oh _that._

Here she was, going day by day, totally not thinking of _that_ and instead thinking how good it was that _that_ had finally passed. Did all her class think of it? Maybe she had to feud with him more publicly.

“Ah yes!” Rose squealed. “That was _so_ romantic!”

“They were acting,” Alya assisted.

Alix took a pause to chew more wrap. For such tempering words she was producing, her care level was zero. “Whatever. I totally thought the chemistry was there, but if you say so.”

Marinette _did_ say so. She’d say so to all other picnickers dotted on the Seine’s edge, cry it to the heavens, announce it on assembly, go up to that two-gorgeous-faced, lying _bastard_ and tell him just how much “acting” that was if he or anyone else implied otherwise.

“It was for the film,” she said simply, dawning a cloak of carelessness and dignity.

After all, she had to make it known that she despised him.

Just like Adrien despised her.

“L-Ladybug?”

 _Most_ of her.

Just as she had lost hold on Chat Noir at the TVi studio with Simon Says on the loose, to make up for his presence arrived the person Nino so-desperately was keen to find – his best bud _Adrien,_ the literal son of the entire problem, Gabriel Agreste, who triggered Simon’s akumatisation.

He appeared walking out on the studio’s mezzanine platform.

“Adrien!” Nino leapt at him. “Dude, you okay?!”

“I’m fine.”

Stiff against Nino’s hug, he looked at _her._

“H-hello,” the supposedly cocky, egotistical, self-aware, and reliably-rude boy said, _blushing,_ and literally _pushing_ Nino out of his way towards her – well,

Ladybug.

She swallowed tightly as he just… stared, enamoured.

“Uh, hi?” As the pennies of silence dropped, so did her gloved wave. “You sure you’re okay?”

After years of staring, he rubbed the back of his neck. Oh– so he was alive. “I’m fine, really.”

Holding her yo-yo, she cleared her throat, ignoring the depth of how his open green gaze poured into her. It was odd – she couldn’t insult him, insist he insult her, or turn him back to ‘normal’ all while tidal waves inside her urged that she do those exact things. Starstruck Adrien not looking ready to trash her outfit (and instead admiring?) was just… too _weird_.

Since when did she miss Adrien despising her?

Apparently, since his celebrity crush produced a frothing fanboy.

“We’ve got to get to your house, _now_. Your father’s in danger.”

By the way he ogled her, it seemed Adrien didn’t really _care._

“Uh… okay.”

“Let’s go!” she hurried, prompting Nino into step. “Chat Noir will meet us there.”

It got worse a little after.

Simon Says was about his business and so was the blond pain who was supposed to be hiding safely. Well, apparently, he was _so_ comfortable with his over-sized mansion’s security system, he decided to… relax?

“Where’s Adrien?” she asked Nino when realising they had to leave the premise.

“Taking a shower.” 

Wh–

 _What_.

“ _Now?!”_

“It’s the “model in him”.”

Oh that was _so_ something he would say. How did Nino survive?

Frowning, she steered towards the bathroom door. “Go take Nino to the Atrium,” she told Nathalie. “I’ll take care of the handicap.”

With the others gone, she knocked twice, pressing her ear against the steel frame. Already unpleased at the lack of Chat Noir amidst this certain mission, impatiently, she shoved open the door once no one replied to her incessant, “Adrien!”s.

“Yeah?”

Until he did.

Hair lightly browned and damped—slicked so tresses keened above his brow—, Adrien’s head poked out, and the sound of water running finally made itself known.

The door shut behind her.

“Uh, um— Sorry?”

“You’re fine! What’s up?”

Something twitched in her chest. Adrien had never spoken to her like _that_ before, let alone while _looking_ like that.

As he ducked his head back, she said, quite eloquently considering the circumstances, “Do you need a… second?”

The shower shut off. An extra angle of his torso appeared as he leant, a towel now around his neck and a hand carding through his very Chat-like hair – She was sure if it was just that bit shorter it could fit the brief (then she didn’t dwell on _that_ long). On the sliver of hip that prodded her sight was another expensive towel.

And while looking like that, he spoke like _that_ again:

“Something up, little lady?”

Uh—

Now that he mentioned, her breakfast felt rather _up_ her throat.

She became all too aware of all too little: _him,_ her, and her lack of everything that made her identifiable as Marinette. He was terribly clueless. She couldn’t just– _tell_ this ‘celebrity’ without whom she’d established anything more than eye contact with to, “put a shirt on, jackass” because that wasn’t the Ladybug-esk thing to do.

Instead she had to clear her throat, visibly take in the overtly tall, overtly fit idiot so _obviously_ parading his assets to the local superhero, and remember being alone with Adrien in his bathroom not being about to rip his head off wasn’t something to drag out.

If only Chat could see the audacious flirt. He wouldn’t let Adrien wink at her like that for a _second._

Not that her and Chat were a thing – or that he felt the same about her, or knew how funny, sensitive, kind, understanding, charming, or beautiful she believed him to be. Or that she’d come delicately close to admitting her forlorn love and ruining their partnership a few times already. But that was a _whole_ thing.

Speaking of Chat, he’d fallen from her mind.

“It’s too dangerous here. We’ve gotta go, like, now.”

His brow softened and that grin appeared.

“Can I put on some clothes first?”

Um.

Was the guy _serious?_

It took some energy— _far_ too much of her energy—to not slap him into sense with cries of, “ _I’m Marinette! Stop trying to seduce me, you bighead bastard!”_ because frankly whatever ‘this’ was, was _weird._

So drawing a breath, Ladybug checked the time on her yoyo, blinking duly.

“Whatever. I’ll wait outside.”

“You don’t have t—”

“ _I’ll be outside!”_

-

He wasn’t long. In fact, he scared the crap out of her just when her conscious talked her out of snooping around Adrien’s stuff. Not that she logically could if she wanted to – Where would she even start? The second story? The orchard of bookcases? Or the— _was that a stripper pole?_

Okay, she needed to revisit the place on second thought. His room, as Nino described, could’ve rivalled a stadium. But what truly soaked her attention just before Adrien walked out was the three-panelled monitor on his desk. A woman, his age seemingly, with golden ringlets and dazzling eyes looked straight back at her in a complementing royal blue.

“My mother on her seventeenth birthday,” a voice appeared, warm and casual. “She was pretty, no?”

Ladybug blinked. A prickly sensation spiked beneath the suit. She felt invasive. Her and Adrien weren’t supposed to discuss such normal things, let alone family. She didn’t know what to say but flicker attention between the blondes. Was this the part she had to say something nice?

“She’s… got your smile.”

They _both_ said.

She looked back at Adrien, him sporting a similar surprise. Her mouth tipped.

And the door came down.

In burst a swarm of hypnotised civilians who’d finally breached the security system, arms in front and zombie-running their way. Prepared, Ladybug leapt at Adrien and landed them in the bathroom, turning her head to ignore the way he stared up at her. Her eye caught more controlled beings charging.

“Stay here!” she demanded, up and slamming the bathroom door.

—Hopefully, never having to deal with him like that again. Mutual hate was one thing, but he was somehow _worse_ fawning all over her and acting... normal.

She just couldn’t.

Too much. Too weird. Too different.

But all would be ordinary once Chat decided to grace the battle. She could use the company of someone without two-faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladddsss the comics there’s legit cOmiCs of this there’s people making flipping /masterpieces/ out here (check insta link I know you’re curious) My boi aerequets (dark chocolate clan ruler, don’t let that dismay you tho shes still cool) and I even posted a collab this morning 👀 Just check out all her stuff actually I binge off it 
> 
> Until next time!! Work is shoving me down and the next week I’ll be knackered with it so patience might be needed hehe

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna see the art for this au (which you do ;))
> 
> [ Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/snacc_noir)
> 
> [ Tumblr ](https://snacc-noir.tumblr.com/)


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